Like this:

Rise from the ashes of your lungs to see the stars shining through your eyes. They tell stories of the past lives never lived, yet forgotten by us. Past chances never mattered when ignored through the closed windows.

Souls yearn; no, they burn to see the fresh air outside of the body but to do so dying is required. Everyone is baffled by the entanglement of his/her soul on the inside. Everyone is in pain. No one can escape the confinements of this body; the eternal ethereal prison we call home. It reeks half the time and the other half searches for a purpose, a way to survive, to matter in a world where nothing matters anymore; no religion, no ideology, no salvation, no utopia, nothing is out there; no god awaits our return. We came from nowhere. We’re not going anywhere.

Wondrous birds of prey sank their teeth in to shut the agony fighting the raging in to barter every soul to hell was a master stroke in the paramount importance of a queer mind yet unquenched by the ravages of time to be alone in the murderous silence of the lambs asymmetrical to the grossly unrealized tigers with so much fur to carry across time my brain couldn’t fathom poor tiny monsters Monday mornings going to work for the corporate fat cats who enjoy a good mouse once in a while if any since all the mice have poisoned human souls with their misinterpreted folly, joy!